Dirty Secrets

by Drummond, Lonaire

  “Watch your tone with me young man. You have too much of your mother in you. She eventually learned I don’t allow disrespect in my home.”

  “Yes, Nonna,” Ambrogio said.

  Everyone in the limousine sat back in their seats. The words frozen on their tongues after Felicità corrected Ambrogio. She was kind and loving, yet she was not to be toyed with. Adele’s admiration grew with every minute that she was around her.

  She hoped to have the same effect on her children. She want them to rely on and benefit from Robynne’s intelligence and wit. In the end, Adele wanted Robynne around regardless of the circumstances. She hoped she would have the chance to tell her exactly how important their friendship was.

  Florence did not exist quietly. Even the sirens were more demanding then the ones at home. The high pitched warbling was the equivalent to a obscene gesture. A shrill reminder to get out the way. Pedestrians were just as lax about rules as drivers were.

  Impact proof, pedestrians stepped into the road, car or bus be damned. Mousey cars were king. The gas guzzling sport utility vehicles revered in the states would be rendered a nuisance if driven down Florence’s narrow streets. It’s drivers not confined to using the road, Adele witnessed a car creep onto the sidewalk to evade a traffic ensnarement. Adele drank in the scenery, temporarily inebriated by the organized chaos buzzing around her.

  She’d fallen asleep after a while, Felcita’s shoulder acted as her pillow during the rest of the ride. If Ambrogio, who gently guided Adele into consciousness, was a quiet alarm, the hustle and bustle of the square was the sound of a gong commanding her to wake at once. She watched the tourists rotate around the square like pawn pieces, while the knights—the police—stood guard.

  Ambrogio’s guards motioned for us to follow him.

  “This isn’t the academy, and those don’t look like the kind of boys you should be playing with.” Felicita refused to budge until Ambrogio and Luca addressed her.

  “Nonna, this isn’t a game. Someone’s life is in danger.” Luca said. His valiant effort at bringing her around served to confused the fragile woman more. Adele watched as her brow knitted together in confusion.

  “You’ve lied to me. What ever this is, it is not a situation for children to be involved in. Tell me who is in danger and I will call the police. You will not become involved in any kind of scandal,” she said.

  “You need to stop this, Nonna. We’re grown. Ambrogio and I are thirty-three years old. We’re adults. The year is 2011.” Exasperated, Luca grabbed a newspaper from a passing tourist.

  Felicità slapped Luca where he stood. The newspaper coasted to the ground at their feet. “I will not tolerate rudeness.”

  Ambrogio secured the reigns on the situation. “Nonna, can you recite the fifth canto of Dante’s Inferno for Luca? You know he always forgets it.”

  Uncertainty glistened in Felicità’s eyes momentarily. “It’s my favorite, of course I can.”

  Secure with the knowledge that Felicità was in good hands, Adele and Ambrogio followed the guard past a gallery of statues into the first courtyard. In a word, the courtyard was creepy. A small statue of a boy with a dolphin on his back served to center the room. Carvings on the vaulted ceiling and pillars in the courtyard depicted horrific scenes of death and carnage. Carnage, Adele hoped, had not touched Robynne.

  They walked the expanse of a room the size of a football stadium. Art work glorifying Florence’s battles against their enemies, centuries old and delicate, decorated the great hall of the imposing building.

  The guard moved with a sense of urgency, the sound of his urgent foot steps echoed throughout the room. “According to the caretaker, the Sala Verde has been made into quite a mess by the kidnappers. There was construction on the premises. No one has been allowed in this area for months. This whole thing is very embarrassing for us.”

  “What do you mean by mess?” Ambrogio and Adele said together.

  “I will let you discover that for yourself.”

  By all rights and accordances, the Sala Verde, couldn’t be called the green room anymore. It resembled a small slaughter house. There was blood on the walls, as well as, a few paintings.

  If not for Ambrogio’s quick thinking, Adele would have landed face first in a pool of blood when her knees buckled. He braced her with one arm and continued to search for clues.

  “Could this blood have come from Robynne?” Adele asked.

  “There’s no way to tell right now.” Ambrogio said.

  Food wrappers lay abandoned. A makeshift bed, complete with an air mattress, pillow and sheets enshrouded in a plastic tarp sat tucked in a corner.

  Adele bit back the bile churning in her throat when she stepped on the scarf Cesare gave her a few nights ago.

  “There’s the scarf you told your assistant to give me the night you and your brother played switched places.” Adele grabbed the edge of a desk, suddenly needing more than Ambrogio’s sturdy body to hold her up.

  “What are you talking about? I gave Cesare nothing of the sort.”

  “He followed us out to the car, knocked on the window as we were about to leave and handed me the scarf. It was a souvenir to remember you by, one you had given to all the women who’ve graced La Borgata’s halls.”

  “I don’t know what your talking about,” Ambrogio said.

  “It was a set up.”

  “If Cesare gave it to you. How could it have possibly ended up here?” Ambrogio asked.

  “What I refused, Robynne accepted. She was wearing it when she disappeared.”

  They surmised that the kidnappers were to differentiate between Robynne and Adele by the scarf. When the clues were placed together, side by side, the culprit appeared to be Ambrogio’s trusted assistant and family friend, Cesare.

  “It is highly unlikely. He can not be involved in this mess. He has worked with our family for years. His father worked for my father. It has been this way for generations. We’ve always treated the Tagliani’s with respect. They are family. I cannot understand how this could be,” Ambrogio said.

  The guard, who had been searching the room top to bottom for clues, approached Ambrogio with his jaw flexed. “Sir, there’s a problem at La Borgata.”

  “What kind of problem? Have you found Robynne?”

  The guard walked Ambrogio out of Adele’s earshot. “There’s been an explosion. Someone is dead. They are not sure who.”

  “Say nothing else.” Ambrogio said.

  White as a ghost, Adele approached Ambrogio, noting the worry lines now marring his face. “What happened?”

  “It is nothing.”

  “You left the room to talk to the guard about nothing?”

  “We spoke of Felicità. Can you accompany her to one of our hotels? I think she could use a change of scenery. It might be what she needs to be herself again,” Ambrogio said.

  “You might not be able to make her go. She’s stubborn on a good day, on a bad day like today, forget it. She’s not going to budge. Believe me. It’s not worth the fight,” Adele said.

  “Do it for me?” Ambrogio asked.

  “I think it would be best for her to stay with family anyway, to be honest with you.”

  Ambrogio wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I know what’s best for my own grandmother. Do this for me, per favore?”

  “I’m sure you do. I’m not questioning that, but—”

  “Just do as I say, for once.” Ambrogio interrupted.

  “Why don’t you want us to go back to La Borgata with you? Something happened, I know it. You can’t even look me in the eye. It’s Robynne? Tell me.”

  Ambrogio sent an ancient challis flying across the room. “There’s been an explosion at La Borgata. Someone has perished, they do not know who. I wanted to spare you in case it was—”

  “It isn’t,” Adele refused to let him finish his thought.

  They fled the courtyards and squeezed through the hundreds of tourists flooding the plaza. They found Luca leaning on the lim
ousine, shoulders folded across his chest. Felicità was no where in sight.

  “I sent nonna away with the guards when I heard the news. Come, we must hurry back to La Borgata,” Luca said.

  Ambrogio grabbed Luca’s forearm and squeezed before disappearing into the car. Adele wished their display of brotherly love didn’t have to occur on such traumatic terms. When it was her turn to enter the car, Luca planted two somber kisses on her cheeks.

  Adele noticed a change in Luca. His effervescent demeanor eclipsed by the weight of a thousand worries on his shoulders. The dark shadow of suspicion cast over Cesare hung heavy in the car on the ride home. His betrayal so palpable, it’s power contorted the faces of the two brothers.

  Chapter 32

  The roads leading up to La Borgata overflowed with an unusual amount of traffic. Delivery trucks, scooters and cars held back by police, honked their disapproval. Whatever space not occupied by wheels was overtaken by gawkers trying to capture a glance at the spectacle which laid ahead.

  “Maybe we should walk,” Luca said.

  “Do you forget the reason why this crowd is here in the first place. Somebody means to do us harm. They want to accomplish their goals through whatever means available. Adele would make an easing target for them.”

  Luca signaled the driver to stop. “I will walk ahead then.”

  “As much as you ride my nerves, I do not want to see anything happen to you either.” Ambrogio made a phone call, shortly thereafter, one by one, people started pulling their vehicles off to the side of the road as directed by a police officer.

  The pathway cleared, and they started moving, unrestricted, towards La Borgata.

  “Do not worry, Cara.” Ambrogio said. He hugged her to him as she stared up at the smoke which got thicker the closer their arrival to La Borgata became.

  “I’m not worried.” Adele said. She had closed her mind to the thought of Robynne’s blood splattered all over the walls of the green way. She used the same determination to convince herself that Robynne was no where near Ambrogio’s home. A thought bound for release on her lips, never had the chance to be spoken. Glass fragments flew around the inhabitants of the car, maiming most in it’s path.

  Adele’s body tumbled to the floor of the car. She couldn’t hear anything due to Ambrogio’s thick arms nuzzling her head. Her face was wet, but she wasn’t crying.

  “Are you alright, Cara? Adele, are you hurt?”

  “I’m not hurt. I’m just a little stunned. What happened?”

  Ambrogio hovered over Adele, eyes intently surveying her for wounds. “You’re bleeding. There is a piece of glass embedded in your cheek.”

  “You have cuts on your face too.” The observations continued as they rose up onto their knees.

  Their roaming hands checking for what their eyes couldn’t see. A dull cry of pain broke the spell they had casted on each other. Their eyes instantly went in search of the source of the cry.

  Adele shrieked in horror upon discovering Luca’s rumpled form knocked over like a sign in the street. The assailant, a rock the size of a fist, lay casually next to Luca’s head.

  Ambrogio sprung into action, swiping the shards of glass off of his brother’s prone body.

  “Don’t move him,” Adele said.

  Although Luca was conscious, he look like he was fading fast. Blood flowed down the side of his head like a waterfall. Industrious in his efforts to minimize blood loss, Ambrogio used his shirt to plug the gash in his brother’s head.

  “Your pressing too hard. It hurts.” Luca murmured.

  Ambrogio continued to tend to his brother’s wounds despite his protests. “Remember Annalisa?”

  “The redhead with the stunning blue eyes? How could I forget. She made the biggest mistake of her life when she chose you over me,” Luca said.

  “Choosing you would have been bad for her health. I told her you had an std.” Ambrogio said.

  Luca’s eyes bulged out before closing entirely. His body went into convulsions. Ambrogio tried to hold him down with his free hand to no avail. Adele joined in the struggle and together they were able to subdue him. His limbs no longer responsive, slung in all directions. Ambrogio’s ear hovered over his mouth to check for signs of life, a move promptly rewarded with a slap courtesy of a backhand from Luca.

  “She was my soulmate,” Luca said. His mischievous smile a sign that his life was not in danger.

  Ambrogio’s shock soon turned to loud belly rolls of laughter. “He lives.”

  “She was the only woman I had ever loved.” Luca said. He pried his brother’s hands from his head. The wound had stopped bleeding. It congealed in his hair, transforming his locks into a matted blood stained monstrosity.

  “We were sixteen.”

  Luca winked at Adele, and she smiled back in spite of being upset by his duplicity.

  “True love knows no age. You just wanted to take her from me to see if you could,” Luca said.

  “I loved her in my own way,” Ambrogio said.

  “Then why didn’t it last for more than three weeks?”

  “Love is fleeting.” Ambrogio answered.

  “You know I saw her a few months ago in Milan. She was even more beautiful than she was back then. She’s married with two children. I could have been her husband. Those children could have been mine,” Luca said.

  “The ladies man wants to settle down?” Adele asked.

  “Adele, you’re a good woman. I find the ones who can’t remember my name.”

  “My father always said if you go looking for trash, don’t be surprised when you find it.” Adele said.

  “Sound advice from an intelligent man.” Luca said.

  Adele teared up. “He was.”

  The arrival of an ambulance, and a recalcitrant Luca’s subsequent refusal to leave Ambrogio’s side further touched Adele’s heart. Ambrogio gently reminded his brother that he had a head injury, and he needed immediate attention. When Adele reminded Luca he stood to be the recipient of Felicita’s wrath, he relented.

  The decision regarding whether to continue on to La Borgata weighed heavily on Ambrogio’s shoulders which slumped during the walk to the smoking castle. He pulled out his cell phone, urgently dialing a number when he tossed it to his left in a huff. The remnants of his phone lay gutted on the grass alongside the road.

  “Why did you throw your phone?”

  Ambrogio and Adele’s conversation came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the charred remains of car. A partition shielded the front of the car from view. Several police officers milled around the sizzling car, writing reports and asking bystanders questions.“I called Cesare to tell him to go to the hospital with Luca.” Ambrogio said.

  Adele grabbed Ambrogio’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “You could have gone with him. I’m okay.”

  “I could not leave you to fend for yourself, especially if—this is more than someone wanting revenge over business transactions from centuries ago. It’s a personal affront to our family. The recruitment of a trusted family employee has given them the upmost advantage. I need to know why Cesare has betrayed us. What could they have offered him?”

  A stern-faced man approached Ambrogio and Adele, clad in protective police gear. “Mr Argentero, we might have preliminary identification on the victim in the car. We just need you to take a look at some pictures.”

  Ambrogio shook the policeman’s hands. “Giacoppo Falconi, I’m sorry to have to met you under these circumstances. I’ve heard a lot about you. This is Adele, my girlfriend.”

  Giocoppo barely acknowledged Adele with the slight lift of his brow. “I’ve heard many things about you and your family.”

  “Good things, I hope?” Ambrogio said.

  “That remains to be seen, considering there’s a body cooked well-done in your driveway.”

  “We had nothing to do with the bombing. I don’t like what your implying,” Ambrogio said.

  “I won’t have to imply if forensics confirms my suspicions.”
Giacoppo said after handing Ambrogio a digital camera. Adele placed Ambrogio’s “she’s my girlfriend” declaration in the further recesses of her mind for safe keeping.

  She strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the camera, balancing on her tip-toes, the position proved futile due to the seven inches Ambrogio had on her. From her slightly elevated vantage point, Adele saw disbelief flash in his eyes at whatever image those pictures revealed.

  Ambrogio’s voice quivered as he spoke. “Dio Mio, the body in the car is Cesare’s.”

  “How can you be sure?” Adele grabbed the camera out of his hands only to retch at a picture of a charred arm. That arm still wore a watch, although it was a melted, disfigured mess.

  Ambrogio pointed at the arm in the picture. “I personally had the watch made for Cesare for his fortieth birthday a few years ago. I had the family’s crest carved into the face of the watch. All our staff receives certain keepsakes for their devoted service to our family.”

  “Of course, we must see his dental records to confirm it was, in fact, your assistant who died in this explosion. I need to search Cesare’s room.” Giaccopo said.

  Ambrogio gave Adele a heartbroken glance before guiding the investigator towards the entrance to La Borgata. “Follow me, I can take you to it.”

  The flashbulbs had started as soon as Ambrogio and Adele approached the chaotic scene. A reporter stalked up to Adele, pushing a tape-recorder into her face. It took two guards and three policeman to pry the reporter out of Ambrogio’s volatile hands. Reams of unwound tape left behind in his wake were the only evidence of the encounter.

  Other reporters screamed questions in Italian at them from all directions. Adele felt like a celebrity fresh from her latest scandal. Ambrogio didn’t seem at all phased by the unyielding attention. He moved through the story-hungry reporters like a blade cutting through a piece of cake—swiftly and without resistance.

  Adele’s was relieved. She was happy Robynne, although still unfound, wasn’t the body discovered in the car. Led by Ambrogio, the investigator and Robynne walked through the halls of La Borgata which were filled with grieving workers, their heads bent as the trio walked by.